Illusionary
by Arisa K
Summary: Stories of Cloud losing his mind due to Aeris' death are typical. What happens when Tifa is the one who suffers from guilt? CloTi ahead. Chapter three added...after a two year wait.
1. Chapter 1

**Illusionary**

_Summary: We all read of stories surrounding the loss of Cloud's mind due to Aeris' demise, and often Tifa is the one who supports and attempts to guide him through his pain and strife, frequently experiencing pain and strife of her own as a result. But what happens, if in one scenario, the roles are nearly reversed? What happens when it's Cloud who offers the support to Tifa, who seems to experience bouts of unrelentingly anguish and...guilt?_

Chapter 1

Times had changed. The world seemed as if it flipped inside out. The threat of the end had vanished, and the victors of such a feat lived their lives like regular, common folk. Although close in spirit, their residences seemed to spread across the globe, each residing in the habitant best suited for their nature.

Tifa Lockhart in particular, found her choice spot to be Kalm, just to the South of where Midgar used to be—where it's reconstruction was rapidly taking place. Despite the close proximity, she made an effort to stay far from those affairs. However, if a threat arose once again, one could bet she would be the first in line to bring whatever plans constructed to a startling halt. More lives would not be lost due to whatever horrendous plans the new government would concoct in the future.

The brunette returned to a live a life that was most natural to her. Though her funds were suitable enough for her to probably live a more than comfortable life without having to lift another finger again, she chose to entertain herself with the notion that the working world, the drunkards, and the punks needed her to mix a drink or two to sooth their aching heads and hearts. Managing the bar "7th Heaven" in memory of her fallen haven, she kept herself occupied most days and late nights. Help was hired, offering jobs to those in desperate need. Many did not last due to various reasons, each ranging from poor skill with the bottle to finding a job more respectable to ones' image. Tifa never minded when someone would quit. It was only when she had to terminate an employee where she tended to have any bit of difficulty at all.

Someone accompanied Tifa Lockhart in her two-story blue villa. Cloud Strife often took the position of her wandering roommate, coming and going as he pleased, always welcomed by a smiling face and a warm voice whenever he came to return to what and who was most familiar.

"Do you regret anything you did during that time?"

The crackling of the blazing fireplace blared as silence enveloped the living room, the fire sizzled as the flames toasted the splintered wood. All that occupied the room were two. Two best friends seated before the fiery red and orange inferno upon the cream cushions of a loveseat planted to the hardwood flooring. Cloud reclined to one side of the furniture while the ever bashful Tifa sat comfortably to the opposite. Her words cast a shadow of thought to the young mans' features as his mind began contemplating, remembering, recalling any bits of information he could acquire to answer her inquiry.

"Hard to say. Several of my actions I at times regret. But, when I look at the bigger picture, I wonder if the things I did I changed, would I be like I am today. Would the world be safe from him." He didn't like to speak his name any longer. It sent a taste of disgust that he wished not to experience. "Would I be here..." he fell silent, his Mako irises securely placed to the fire, careful not to wander.

Lockhart sat silent for many moments, absorbing his words. She could relate; the answer to her own question was similar. But moreover, she regretted things she didn't do, or couldn't bring herself to do. Maybe if she did, a few things might be different now...

"What about you?" Strife asked suddenly, his gaze moving to glance at his childhood friend, who returned the stare with a thoughtful expression. "Do you regret anything?"

"Not really." It wasn't a complete lie, just not the entire truth. "Sometimes I regret the things I didn't do or say..."

He began to look at her inquisitively, shifting in his position as he placed an ankle to his knee, "Like what?"

"Oh...it's not really important." After all this time, all these years, she still couldn't bring herself to speak from her heart and not her mind. Crossing her legs as she placed her palms to her knees, she tilted her head to the side as she smiled ever so slightly, "Besides, it's too late anyway."

"Oh no, it's not," Cloud remarked coolly as he wagged his finger in a playful gesture, "It's never too late."

Tifa looked down to her feet, her smile vanishing instantly, "That's not true. It's too late for many things, and people."

A sudden melancholy washed over the duo as they reflected on the words. One person came to mind. Burnt auburn locks, enchanting green eyes, pale skin and pretty pink lips—their fallen flower girl. Sacrifice was appreciated when dedicated to the right cause, but the effects in the aftermath can be just as devastating as the event the moment it occurred. A moment of silence to the remembrance, the mourning of a loved one.

"She had a crush on you, you know," Tifa said softly, nearly in a whisper. The words seemed to almost pain her to mention, as if tiny needles had inched their way into her beating heart and twisted in such an unrelenting fashion that it made her clench. "It was there in her eyes the whole time."

"I know." He appeared lost in thought for a time before speaking again, "I'm not completely clueless. Her subtle advances didn't go totally unnoticed. I noticed. I think I had a crush on her too."

That time was in the past. Despite this, Tifa couldn't help but feel the sting of jealousy. He could see Aeris' feelings plain as day, but not her own? Just twist those needles a little more to the right... "Could you see yourself pursuing it?" The question itself was painful to ask, but the jolt of curiosity outweighed any logic to refrain from asking entirely.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, shifting uncomfortably. He sat forward, his elbows to his knees as he stared deeply into fireplace, the dancing flames settling slightly from its raging fury to a calm descent. "It's possible. We never really had the chance to know anything further about each other. You know, circumstances and all. When she met me, I was something not so real. I twisted who I was... She didn't meet me. She even told me, when we went out to Gold Saucer together that she wanted to meet 'me'. I didn't understand it then, not until you helped save me." Shaking his head with the vaguest trace of a smile to his lips, he leaned back, returning his gaze to Tifa, who was currently fumbling with the hem of her denim skirt. "I can't help but wonder at times, if it was Zack instead of me that she felt the affection toward."

"There's really no telling now, is there?" The whisper was so soft, so barely audible that the blond hero had to strain to hear her. The remembrance of their beloved friend was an invited, yet painful memory to behold, and the sudden topic left her feeling awkward and unnerved. "It's all over now. Ever aspect of the past is over now."

Wisely choosing not to respond to the comment, he too redirected his attention to the flames, a smile continuing to linger upon his lips, "I wonder if she misses it here, or maybe she's happier where she is now..."

Tifa nodded; a smile of her own coming to show, "I think she's happy. She's happy that she sees her sacrifice made a difference, and helped save us all."

Cloud nodded as her words, "I'm sure you're right. Sometimes..." his voice thickened with emotion as his face suddenly darkened in thought, "I wish I could speak to her one last time. Tell her, at the very least, 'thank you'."

A pang of empathetic sympathy struck Lockhart's chest as she looked at the blonde through the corner of her wine colored eye, "Me too."

Another silence overcame the pair, the silence alone proving their mutual understanding, perhaps even sending a prayer to their beloved friend...a prayer of thanks. Thanks for the sacrifice, the love and support she gave during her time of life, for being loving and warm, full of life before her light was snuffed. Thank you forever.

A yawn erupted from Strife's open mouth as he raised his fists above his head in a stretch, "Gee, stocking your inventory sure exhausted the hell out of me. Too bad you're a woman, or you could have done it yourself," he quipped with a sly grin in an attempt to lighten the mood, eyes sparkling in complete amusement.

Tifa at once jumped on the playful defensive wagon, her body stiffening as she gripped one of the sofa pillows and hurled it at his head, "You're the one who needed to prove his macho tendencies, assuring me you could handle it!" She retorted with a chuckle.

Cloud, anticipating the attack, caught the airborne mound of fluff between his palms and set it to his side, "And I did...just not very well I guess." He smiled genuinely, which nearly took Tifa off guard, for a trace of surprise lingered in her eyes. It had been a long while since she'd seen a smile like it coming from him. "I'm going to bed. Are you coming up?"

Shifting her attention to the dying fire, she shook her head in negation, which earned a near frown from her friend. "Tifa...you're exhausted and you know it."

It was true. She had spent several hours more than normal at '7th Heaven', and her eyelids were drooping as they spoke, but the atmosphere, the comfort of the heat the flames emitted, its light casting a soft, radiant glow to her pale skin was too comforting to pass up. "No, I'm fine, really. I don't need an escort to my room."

Cloud continued to stare at her, appearing to be quite reluctant to make the trek up the steps. She was suddenly a sight he dare not look away from. "You don't, but I would like one."

Lockhart turned to gaze at him, a butterfly or two fluttering within the pit of her stomach. Cloud's expression caught the woman off guard, the seriousness of his statement displayed upon his lips. Banishing all hopeful thoughts from her mind, she decided to keep their conversation to a lighter tone, smiling cutely as she tilted her head to the side. "Now Cloud, I thought you told me you weren't scared of the dark anymore? Go on, you'll be just fine."

Finding it easier to stick with the playful exchange, Cloud merely nodded, reaching a hand behind his neck to rub uncomfortably, strangely surprised at his own words once they fell from his lips. "Yeah well, I lied. I still need a night-light after all. Do you promise the boogie man won't get me?" He pouted a bit, his lower lip trembling considerably.

Laughing kindly, she shook her head, waving a hand in the direction of the stairwell. "Of course I promise. And if he does, call and I'll come running. Now go to sleep!"

Dragging in his steps, Cloud proceeded toward the stairs like a child being sent to his room. Once reaching its base however, he turned to look at his companion one last time before the final call of his bed echoed in his ears. "Good night, Tifa." He spoke softly as each syllable was carried gently through the warmth of the air to the female at the sofa, who smiled solemnly at the bid of adieu. Turning once more, he made his climb to the top, leaving behind an emotionally exhausted Lockhart.

Why did everything suddenly feel too entirely complicated? Why were her feelings eating her alive? She was content in this setting. Cloud was near, usually, unless he sought out on one of his spontaneous travels. She knew he left to be alone, to reflect, and God knew what else. After all this time between the historic past and present, he still carried many unresolved feelings, and incomplete thoughts. He was nearly whole, but a few kinks needed working out. Tifa did all she could, but there are some things in life that must be repaired by oneself, and no other.

She watched him ascend the stairs, her eyes never leaving his retreating figure as he disappeared into the upper darkness. Their conversation had been the first in months, and it was of the past. It was always the past. But Tifa was always the one to bring it up.

Maybe it wasn't only Cloud who continued to carry insecurities. At least he was dealing, while Tifa was denying.

Lying upon the length of the loveseat, she continued to stare into the depths of the vanishing blaze as her mind wandered. All thoughts that began with something else, all ended with Cloud. To her misfortune, he continued to be the center of her universe, whether he was present within her life or not.

Sleep was beginning to overcome her will even though she had intentions of snuggling in the sheets of her own bed, across the hall, from him. Where he would be so close, and forever so very far...

He knew. He had to know her feelings. Was his silence, his refusal to acknowledge them his own way of rejection? After the trauma, after her not so blunt confession under the Highwind of what was to be believed as possibly their last night together, he still hadn't said anything, still never truly responded. Perhaps, just letting go was her only option.

Letting go...

_Darkness. Despite zero visibility, the pair of lovers needed no light, no eyes to see. Their touch was more than enough. They saw with no eyes, but with fingers, skin, and lips. Their voices crisp and clear, gentle moans and throes of love as bodies entwined like the stars with the nights velvety sky. There was warmth, there was lust, and there were all things good and sexually satisfying. _

"_Tifa..." A voice rumbled gently through the air as the male curled his fingers around several locks of chocolate brown hair. The female below squirmed deliciously beneath him, her limbs clinging as their union came to its full potential, their love at its very peak._

"_Oh Cloud..." she moaned, her strength leaving her in droves as their bodies trembled in unison, their lips moving to press together to seal the bond completely..._

_In a wisp of cold, chilling nights wind, the blond vanished, and the scenery changed. Darkness continued to surround the female as she looked about herself in confusion and alarm. The change was too sudden—there was no sense to it._

"_Be guilty..." A hateful whisper in the wind blew against the young woman's' ear. She turned, searching for the owner of the voice. No sign, no trace of any other life form but her own._

"_Treacherous..." This whisper was louder, and strangely familiar. Feminine._

_Confusion was deeper than ever before; and suddenly fear reigned over Tifa's heart. She had no words to defend herself. She stood in the endless darkness, speechless._

"_I loved him! You knew, how can you touch what was MINE!?" A vile shout in her ear, and the force, the anger of the tone weakening her as she fell to the floor. Reaching to grip her hair, she closed her eyes as tears formed behind the lids. There was no longer fear, but terror, and guilt. _

"_Feel guilty...feel pain. He should not be yours..." This voice was calm, clear, but full of menace. The young female recognized it completely._

_Aeris._

End Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

_**Illusionary**_

Disclaimer: Eh...Square characters not mine.

_Chapter 2_

Dawn approached as the first signs of summers light seeped through the ivory blinds of Cloud's fairly vacant room. Barely ever being present, the use for many personal items such as pictures or posters was non-existent.

But Cloud was no where within the blinded bedroom. Body adorned in a white tee and faded loose jeans, he was already making his descent down the silent steps just as the crack of dawn shined through the clear glass windows of the pale blue villa. Only a touch of the faintest light reflected off of the white washed walls of the living room, where Tifa continued to slumber.

The house was silent save for Strife's barefoot stride and the brush of his calloused hand to the polished banister. He didn't have to peak inside her untouched room to know she hadn't left the comfort of the loveseats welcoming embrace to her sleeping figure. He _felt_ her down below.

Carefully crossing the hardwood floor, he gazed upon the sleeping brunette with nothing less than an admiring smile. So peaceful and content; he wondered what her dreams were made of. Were they of her aspirations, her future or perhaps something more personal? She had been inside his head by some twisted miracle—what he wouldn't give to take a glimpse in hers...

It may have been an invasion of privacy, but he was drawn to her, like a Prince to his Sleeping Beauty. The reason behind the conscious comparison baffled even him, but regardless of such he proceeded to stalk toward her, careful not to emit a solitary sound.

The loveseat nearly fit the entire stretched length of Lockhart, her body upon its side as her spine and bottom were pressed comfortably to the back cushions. With breathing steady and a trace of a smile to her lips, the young man gathered her dreams must have been pleasant. Cloud could only internally desire to be apart of them.

Approaching her quietly, he boldly sat to the space by her hips and simply watched her in a daze. Moments like these made him wish to never leave her side. She was always so understanding, so supportive to everything he did or had ever done. No matter how many times he left, with word or without, no matter how extensive the period of time, she always welcomed his returning figure with friendly smile and warm embrace. He couldn't take that for granted.

Yet, his venturing was at times necessary. He required time to himself to think, to understand himself. So many memories, so much pain, so many wounds left unhealed and open to infection. There were times no one could help him, no one could save him but himself, and the inner voice within his mind that kept him going, despite the knowledge of who loved him, of who cared. His inner voice was what kept him prowling through the storms, shuffling through the snow and wading through the floods. His inner voice, sounded remarkably like hers...

His fingertips possessed a mind of their own as they lifted from his lap and gently touched Tifa's cheek, delicately stroking a crescent path, and traveling that path repeatedly. What was it within him that caused him to withhold his honest emotion? Fear? Rejection? Both were tremendously possible, his general shy nature still holding him captive. How would he even go about it? Perhaps it was wrong to think such a way, for if he did admit, it could easily tarnish what they already had created. There was simply no risking it.

"Oh Cloud..." The smile widened upon her visage as she inhaled deeply, shifting in her place which caused Cloud to instantly retract his hand, fearful he may have awakened her. However, to his fortune, she remained in her current state, sleep still confining her to her dreamland. So, maybe he was there...

Touching the strands of hair that had fallen to her face, he studied her expression—so blissful and jubilated. She was content with whatever image was being presented by her subconscious, and he didn't want to disturb that. However, he felt selfish, and desired her attention. So he would stay there, and watch her sleep while his lips burned, yearning to feel her. And as the thought entered his mind, he lowered his lips to her temple to do just that—this kiss perhaps the only one he'd ever bestow upon her...

He never got the chance. Once a face filled with nothing but contentment, suddenly contorted into confusion, and finally fear, as her limbs jerked sporadically. Alarmed as he was, Cloud made no immediate move but observed her motions. A good dream had obviously shifted into a nightmare; it was almost too much for the blond to bear. The whimpers of distress that were emanated from her throat were enough to send him into action. As softly as he could, he shook her exposed shoulder, attempting to ease her into the waking world.

With a start, her eyes snapped ajar, clenching and recoiling from the ex-mercenary's touch. At once, he pulled back. Once her glossy irises came into focus, she gazed upon Cloud's figure, slightly startled by the sight of him. "Cloud... G-good morning."

Strife smiled kindly, "Morning. You were having a nightmare."

Tifa frowned, but only a small bit as she sat up straight, curving her back to stretch the cramped muscles beneath her skin, "Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A flash of anxiety appeared on her tightened features as she avoided his piercing blue gaze. "It's not important..." she answered with much uncertainty in her tone.

Despite his raging curiosity, he didn't pursue his interrogation. After all, to know the mare, he must know the dream, which seemed all too personal. He simply caressed her moist shoulder in a comforting motion which had produced a thin layer of perspiration during her mild tremors, "If you say so. If you ever want to tell me you know, you can."

The touch, as soothing as it was to the young woman, left her feeling dirty...

"_Stay away from him!"_

She twitched involuntarily, suddenly struck with a reminder of guilt and fear. Quickly rising from her place upon the loveseat, she immediately made her way toward the stairway, never once risking a glance to the spiky blonde's direction, "I'm going to try and get some more sleep..." A little white lie. She could do anything but sleep at this point. The dream that began was like any other her subconscious produced, but the dark, perplexing nightmare that shattered her fantasy...she couldn't understand it. What did it mean? That voice, so filled with blood curdling hatred and jealousy—a voice that followed her from her subconscious to her utterly conscious state. Was it really _her_?

Strife remained seated, watching her leave without another word to her. Was it his touch that was responsible for her discomfort? It was never an issue before, so why was it now? Was her nightmare responsible for her withdrawal from his touch? With these questions unanswered, he lied within the warmth of the cushions, where the warmth and scent of his childhood friend, his adulthood companion lingered, unconsciously relishing in what was left behind.

A simple ringing of the telephone shattered his oncoming fantasies. He rose from his place to reach for the vibrating phone set upon the pale blue end table to his right. Placing it to his ear, he spoke into it while attempting to feign off the drowsiness that began to consume. "Hello?"

A pause ensued on the other end before someone deeply masculine replied, "Well you ain't Tifa..."

"She's sleeping," Cloud responded to the gruff comment on the other end, "but I hope I can temporarily substitute till she wakes up."

A short, amused chuckle sounded, "Hey spiky-ass. So ya decided to come home after all!"

Cloud thought to reply to his friend, but was interrupted by a childish melody, "Uncle Cloud? Is that uncle Cloud, daddy?"

Strife couldn't help but smile at the familiar voice, "Tell Marlene hello for me."

"Sure—Hey....sweetie, give daddy back the phone...!"

The undeniably sweet and innocent tone of Marlene took over the receiver, "Hi Uncle Cloud! I'm happy you went back to Tifa. She missed you."

These words caused a touch of redness to flush into his cheeks, "I missed her, too."

"So did you tell her?"

This earned a perplexed look, though it was impossible for her to see. She was always so nosy, and sometimes, as humiliating as it was, she stumped him relatively easy. "Tell her what?"

A dramatic, exasperated sigh sounded over the line followed by a deep chuckle from another source, "That you like her, silly!"

He paused a long moment. It was hard to believe he was being interrogated by a child! "I think she knows I like her. She is my best friend, right after you." Shaking his head, he instantly wished to take that statement back. He knew playing stupid with this intelligent five year old was a big mistake.

"No! Not like that...that you –like- her. You are so dense sometimes, Uncle."

"She's got you there, punk!" The child's father shouted from a slight distance, for his voice was muffled and fuzzy to Cloud's ears.

Cloud didn't answer immediately. The thought had crossed his mind several times over, but was quickly dismissed as a possibility. What they already had could easily be lost through the expansion of their relationship. That was something he wasn't willing to risk. "Marlene...you have to understand that sometimes we adults don't think it's a good idea to put a good, friendly relationship at risk to...get together--in that way."

"I think you're scared! Are you scared, Cloud? You shouldn't be because she likes you too! Just teeeeell her. You'll be happy you did. You should get married and have lots of babies for me to play with!" Marlene told him with an excited chipper in her tone. She wanted nothing more than for two of her favorite people to come together. Even though she was young, she was nothing less than observant and wise for her years.

The hero's face turned a deep shade of crimson, and he was relieved he was the only one aware of this fact. "....I'll think about it. I promise."

---

That phone call early that morning left Strife pondering as he stood at Tifa's '7th Heaven' late that night. Who knew it would be a five-year-old to give him the subtle push he needed? His arguments fell flat upon deaf ear as her persistence weaseled its way into his debating, logical mind with unfaltering grace. Though five-years-old, her perception was uncanny, despite the distance between them. She thoroughly convinced him his silence was useless, and he needed nothing more than to allow his emotions to reign free. Of course, it wasn't so eloquently put from the mouth of a child. Still, Marlene was something special.

As the unofficial leader of Avalanche, one would think he'd have his plans in order—to the contrary. He didn't have a clue how to go about it. With an exasperated sigh and a hand through his spiky hair, he turned the knob of the wooden entryway where he was at once greeted with the sight of a practically empty bar. A half drunken male lingered toward the end of the bar counter, his index finger idly tracing his shot glass' edge while two men toward the right hand side of the room, one exceptionally younger than the other, chatted with one another while seated at a round table cluttered with empty shot glasses and crumpled napkins as their attention temporarily diverted to the television positioned against the beige wall. It wasn't normally so slow from what he recalled. However, it was less than an hour before closing time; and within that time he had to piece together his confession.

Perhaps he'd chicken out? It wasn't unlikely. In fact, he was beginning to think it was a rotten idea in the first place. He nearly sauntered out...until he saw her; she was standing behind the bar counter, wiping away the leftover liquor that had drizzled from glasses and chins. Her eyes were clouded, as if she were somewhere else entirely, traveling the routes and detours her mind led her--completely oblivious to his presence.

Smirking slightly as this newfound knowledge, he quietly allowed the door to fall shut behind him. Noticing the eyes that followed his movements suddenly, he paid them no mind as he discreetly moved past various chairs and tables, slipping behind the bar stand where Tifa leaned to snatch an empty bottle from the countertop. As she leaned back to toss it unceremoniously into the trash bin, her back collided with the chest of Cloud Strife. Startled and caught completely off guard, she totally missed the garbage, the glass shattering against the tiled floor as she turned to stare at the male with wide eyes. Upon recognizing the fiend, she punched his shoulder, where he merely chuckled with a grin, reaching to grab the sore joint.

"You scared me half to death, you big jerk!" Tifa exclaimed with her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

He took a back step at the agitated look, hoping it was merely temporary, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Looking to the mess upon the floor, his attention scattered all about the room, as if in search of something, "I'll clean it up."

"No, no," Lockhart shook her head as she dipped down to pick up the pieces. He startled her severely, that much was true, but she couldn't stay mad at him. Her visage had softened almost at once when he began to spew his apology. In fact, a part of her was glad he was present—she hadn't seen him since early that morning. "It's okay. Go on, I can get it."

"You sure? Because I'm not incapable of sweeping." Strife teased, earning a side glance from the brunette knelt before him. Yet even as he made his statement, he began to back out of her work area and toward the blaring television, which no one currently seemed to be paying any attention to.

Rolling her eyes, a quiet chuckle escaped her as she tossed the remnants of the broken bottle into the bin, successfully this time around as she rose to gaze at him. "I'm positive. Now go away, you're distracting me!"

The amusement in her tone was evident, and he playfully pouted regardless of this information. Before turning to depart, he reached into the cooler to his side and swiped a beer from the icy inside. He was unable to take a single step before a voice piped up behind him, "That'll be ten gil, mister."

Looking over his shoulder at the petite bartender who stared at his retreating figure, her fists planted firmly to her hips, he flipped off the top of the bottle with a carelessly placed cap opener, "Put it on my tab, please?" He didn't have to see it, he felt her amusement secrete from her pours as he set the opener back to its previous position and took a seat to one of the many vacant chairs placed closest to the television set.

For a time, there was silence within the bar, other than the news broadcast that Cloud was barely paying attention to as he nursed his beer. He didn't even really want it. It just seemed appropriate to handle for some odd reason. Perhaps it was his subconscious desire to fit into his surroundings, even if they weren't the best of conditions. The beer didn't matter—in his mind, he was debating. How was he going to say it?

'_Tifa...I love you. I've loved you since we were children. I'd like to take it further.'_

No. That was too cliché, too corny for his liking.

'_I think it's time we got married and had babies.'_

Absolutely not! What even possessed him to think of that?! ...Marlene.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a hushed conversation began to ensue behind him. The same men he noticed when he first stepped in were speaking quietly, trying to allow the television to veil the majority of their discussion.

"Have you seen the looks, the smiles she's been giving me all night? There is no doubt in my mind she wants me."

The voice was youthful, just on the brink of masculinity; possibly late teens to early twenties.

"I think yer wastin' yer time, lad. That's a 'tenders job, to ensure a tip from gullible boys like yerself!"

Obviously the eldest of the two with a strange; who spoke foreign accent. He'd been all over the world, but for some reason Cloud couldn't place this one.

"I'm no boy, old man. And I think I'm going to make a move. It's been awhile since I've gotten any action."

Wait...bartender...Tifa? The spiky blond suddenly felt his temper rise as he balled a hand into a tight fist, the other squeezing the perspiring glass bottle in his possession. It was a struggle to keep his back turned to the gentlemen as he eavesdropped, but he was certain not one would get near his friend.

For the first time in his life, Cloud Strife experienced rage brought on by immense jealousy. He knew he'd fallen then.

"She may be a 'tender, but she don't look easy."

'_That's for damn sure,' _Cloud thought with a soft smirk upon his lips.

"'Sides, she's been starin' at that blond fellow over there. I think they might be somethin'."

'_Blond fellow'? _ Slowly, Cloud turned his head to gaze at the brunette the duo referred to, and his eyes locked with a pair of reddish irises that had previously burned holes in the back of his head. Those beautiful, feminine eyes blinked, and looked down at the glass she continuously wiped as if caught doing something wrong. The male merely smiled, and looked back to the television.

'_Cloud... Words aren't the only thing that tell people what you're thinking...'_

These words he held within his heart since the day they were spoken. He now had his means of confession.

"All right boys, time to move out. It's closing time." The owner announced sternly, but as sweetly as possible as she remained behind the bar but ready to leave it if any of the few customers resisted to vacate the premises.

Cloud turned and surveyed the bar as the remaining three patrons grumbled and rose from their seats. The man at the bar stumbled at first, but reached out for a stool to assist his stance. He was successful, and slowly shuffled toward the door with drooping eyes and loose limbs.

The young man gazed at Tifa for a long moment, as if debating something. Cloud was in the midst of giving him a cold, hard glare before the older man roughly shoved his shoulder while mumbling something to him, which was incoherent to Strife's ears, but the young male appeared to hear perfectly. His shoulders slumped forward as he departed the facility, the old man behind him. A slight grin came to the blonds' face as they left, which was quickly replaced with a look of anxiety. So here comes his moment; no longer was he to put it off, but to come face to face with his feelings, and the woman responsible for them.

Currently, she was preoccupied, sweeping the shards of broken glass into a pale green dust pan. She was practically out of his line of vision. And here he thought he had it sorted out, his confession on the tip of his tongue, his fingers, but nothing came. His mind was blank, and his heart was pounding. What was holding him back? Only a moment before he was determined, resolved in his demeanor but the tables seemed to have turned in less than a second.

Standing, he moved toward the wooden door to flip the bolt, locking it from the outside. Moving to the dirt speckled window, he flipped the 'CLOSED' sign just before pulling the shade down to block the moonlights' entrance into the small building. Still, nothing came to his mind. He was at a loss...as usual. Sighing inwardly, he turned toward his comrade to observe her nightly tidings.

Taking a rag in hand, she bent over one of the many tables to wipe the liquid puddles from its top before the sticky substances dried into the unpolished wood. He stared as she moved to yet another table, and she didn't notice the eyes upon her until she reached her third.

Looking in the direction of the still figure by the covered window, she smirked as she placed a hand to her hip. "You could help, you know. Then maybe I wouldn't be in here all night."

Where once fear had existed, had completely dissolved. Where uncertainty lingered, was quickly replaced with resolve. His confidence returned to him with the sight of her smile, and he knew then he was making the right decision.

Strife smiled at her kindly, moving to approach her in an easy, confident stride. Lockhart didn't move, nor did she barely blink an eye or continue her bussing. She watched carefully as the smile on his visage never faltered, as the look in his eye was something uncommon to see. So uncommon, she didn't understand what it was.

And when they came face to face she still couldn't place it. Even when his warm fingers grasped her delicate wrist that held the dirty rag while the other removed it, casting it carelessly to the floor, she couldn't place it. But when that free hand found its way to her face to cup her blushing cheek, she could place it.

He kissed her. Soft, tender, and pressing his passion onto her. A kiss had the capability to say so much, to answer so many untouched questions. This was the beginning—the beginning of the end.

"_Stop it! Stop it now!"_

Eyes once closed, lost in the euphoria of their lips coming together as one, snapped wide open as a terrifying pitch resounded in Tifa's head, and didn't stop; not for a second.

"_Get away, he doesn't belong to you! I WILL NOT LET YOU HAVE HIM!"_

Abruptly as well as fearfully, Lockhart fell away from the kiss, away from the befuddled man who didn't understand her reaction. Her expression told that of confusion, fear, and regret. It was an expression that tore Cloud to pieces.

Searching for words, his mind fumbled over and over again for the right ones. He should have known better than to listen to a five-year-old. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't ha—"

At once, Tifa shook her head, raising a hand to interrupt him as she avoided his eyes. "I...I have to get to work. Go home, I can handle it."

"Tifa—"

"Go home!" She strained on these words, and regretted the volume. However, only a brief, apologetic look was the only indication of such a feeling that her roommate never did see; his back was turned to leave. In a swift dash, she retreated to the back supply room of the bar and slammed the door behind her, leaving Cloud to ponder where he went wrong.

With a longing look behind him, he departed the facility with a broken heart, leaving behind an equally shattered friend who could do nothing but cry, and curse the accusing voice that had been long dead until now.

End of Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

_**Illusionary**_

Chapter 3

**A/N: Long time, I know. Computer crashed, bouts of depression, mind on other things. I have a hard time with consistency, so you'll have to forgive me. Two long years. No good excuse other than what's above, and writers' block attacked me--brutally. It's not very long, but I am back to paying attention to this forgotten piece, so don't fear--Arisa is still here.**

Disclaimer: ...not mine.

Food. Good food. Not poptarts, eggo-waffles, or warm oatmeal--REAL food. The scent of it was like an alarming aroma going off in his fluttering nostrils as he awoke to the whiff of frying eggs, bacon, and freshly chopped hash browns. Just when he was beginning to forget what such delightful delicacies tasted like, a fragrant reminder roused his senses out of their hibernation.

Yet another reminder kept him from rousing out of bed.

Cloud lay tangled in his bed sheets almost uncomfortably as he replayed the events over and over again within his mind as he had for the several hours before he finally drifted into an restless slumber. Rejection was one of the hardest things for him to cope with as it had never been his strong point, and the awkwardness of it made it no better. His roommate, his best friend, a relationship that has the potential to outlast any and all others in the future--he possibly damaged beyond repair. Among the visions of replayed heartbreak stood the words of self-criticism. He simply couldn't berate himself enough for his lack of better judgment, and facing the woman who'd done the rejecting was almost out of the question--he couldn't bring himself to move.

How was he to remain under the same roof as her now that he had done the unthinkable? As much as he would have preferred to place all the blame on a little girl, the blame laid there with his hormones and his heart. The heart had a switch that was coded, that wouldn't turn off no matter how much concentration, no matter how much force lay behind it. He couldn't turn off his feelings; the same feelings that would surely destroy whatever was left that existed of a childhood friendship.

However, if there was one thing Cloud learned in his time with her, with his comrades that stood against a great evil and crushed it under their collective strength, it was to face your demons. Stare your problems, your woes in the eyes and solve them, or deal with the consequences you're handed. Whatever reaction Tifa had to bear in response to the night before would be the consequences he would have to face and accept, despite how painful it may have been.

With a bit of reluctance as well as anxiousness, he managed to stand upon his feet without returning to the safety of his cotton bed sheets to tuck his head beneath and hide from the World beyond his pale green walls. Slow and steady he was, as the sleep from his eyes and body had not completely worn down. Glancing at his closed door, he briefly contemplated a shower before the words of exchange came into play between himself and his best friend. Knowing he was only prolonging the inevitable with his quiet contemplation, he gave a small grumble to the back of his throat before lifting a worn wife beater from the wooden chair to his side, partially tucked beneath the desk it belonged to and pulled it over his unkempt head.

Slow steps, slow careful steps...long, drawn out steps. Suddenly he sighed. 'Suck it up and be a man, Strife. Why torture yourself?' Self-torture was something the young warrior was rather skilled at, but it was definitely something he felt the need to change. He decided to add that to a long list of things he had to change...

Finally summoning the courage, shaking the remaining fatigue from his limbs, he threw the door open and breathed in deeply the scent of a home cooked breakfast. This was perhaps a superb reason never to leave the house on a delivery again, never to run off to his quiet field of contemplation; to mull over the wonders of the world, of his life that he just never figured out. This was his _home_, and surely he should feel like a fool for leaving it.

Today, however, he felt the opposite. As he came upon the tops of the steps, he worried that perhaps it would have been best to escape through the window and run off into the night never to return. Then again, that might have simply caused more pain and grief than he was willing to cause. His actions the night before were about to make things between him and his companion complicated enough. Hightailing it into oblivion was bound to make things much worse for her. No, hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. They'd talk this out, come to a conclusion, and put it behind them.

He was at the bottom of the steps, curving the right wall into the small dining area, which was set with obvious care. The silverware was placed in careful order upon a folded paper napkin, the pale blue table neat and free of creases and wrinkles. His attention shifted from the table for two, to the cook at the stove sliding the last bit of egg on a porcelain plate just out of his view. It was official--he would have been the ultimate douche bag if he slipped out of the window. In fact, he knew he would walk away with a broken leg, life's way of letting him know just how despicable he really was.

"Good Morning," Cloud said softly to the woman as she unceremoniously dropped the frying pan into the sink with a loud -crash!-. He jumped a bit himself, startled by the reaction of his greeting. Maybe she didn't hear him come in...

"Cloud...! Morning," Tifa said with an obvious touch of nervousness seizing her voice. She steadied the tremble in her hands almost immediately as she smiled gently in his direction. She appeared normal, except for the haunted look in her eye as she approached the table with two plates in hand. "I was just about to wake you for breakfast."

"You didn't have to go through all this, you know," he said gently, watching her place the plates on the table with practiced grace. He always admired her homemaking skills and casual way in executing every one of them. A domestic fighter--a fitting combination now that he allowed himself to consider it.

Tifa smiled, shaking her head as she gestured for her roommate to have a chair opposite to her own, "The damage has been done, so you might as well reap the benefits of it."

There was no further hesitation as Cloud took to the chair offered. They both engaged in the meal in complete silence, which was threatening to choke the life out of the blonde warrior. Last nights' events were still endlessly playing through his mind that was quickly forming into a relentless tension headache. The food deadened the irritating sensation only mildly, always taking his time to enjoy the taste of her home cooking. She cooked for him as often as he was around, and only recently was he beginning to appreciate the little things she did for him.

"Tifa..." he began as he wiped his mouth clean with the paper napkin at his side, "About last night, I'm--"

"Forget it," she cut him off before the sentence was finished, standing abruptly to take the plates from the table. He couldn't help but notice her own food had barely been poked, let alone devoured like his own had disappeared. It increased his concern that his actions from the previous night had something to do with her current lack of appetite.

Tifa tensed when she heard the scooting of his chair and shuffling of his garments as she hastily rinsed his plate and set it in the dishwasher. He was standing, and felt his eyes burn into her skin. When she gazed upon her own uneaten breakfast, she sighed at the sight. Her stomach felt the emptiness, but simply couldn't bring herself to satisfy it considering the void had nothing to do with food, "I have to go to the grocery store, and then write out a list of things needed for the bar so I'll be out awhile."

Cloud watched her silently for a moment while in conflict with himself. He didn't know if it would be best to leave her be and wait for her to come around on her own time once her comfort level had been restored, or make a move to set things right himself. "I have a delivery to make. I've been getting a lot of requests since I've been back in town, so I'm going to take care of a few today."

"Maybe you should start your own delivery service," she suggested supportively, scrapping the leftover eggs and bacon into the plastic garbage bin. "Have your own telephone line and the like."

He nodded approvingly to the idea, considering it, but in the back folds of his mind. "Sounds like an idea. And you could be my secretary when I'm not here, if you wouldn't mind." When she didn't respond, he took in a breath, making a second attempt at his apology. As aware as he was of her request to drop it the first time, he felt far more compelled to make it verbally known than to just let it rest--this awkwardness was too much for him. "Tifa, really... I was out of line last night and I'm s--"

"I have to go," she cut him off once again, pushing herself past his stunned form as she snatched her red coat from the peg positioned beside the front door. The haunted look had returned to her eyes as a noticeable tremble took to her arms while slipping them through the sleeves. There were no other words spoken, only an apologetic look to her childhood friend as she disappeared into the morning light, the door closing with a gentle click behind her.

On the other side, Tifa leaned against the door as a fresh wave of tears sprung to her gleaming brown eyes. The dream had repeated itself the previous night that left her shaken and frightened. The ghost of _her_ was relentless like a monstrous apparition hell-bent on keeping her greatest desire from her grasp. She knew he was sorry, and she knew he had no reason to be. One point in time, the thought of his lips on hers was a daydream that kept her functioning. Now the memory of its reality left her sick and breathless, the reminder of the incident leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, and an unwelcome voice echoing in her mind. As potent as it was, she knew if she didn't put it to rest it would surely drive her mad.

Within their home, all Strife could determine from her behavior is that he messed up more than originally perceived, and only time would make up for his fumble. Whether that was time near her or away from her was a matter that would take careful consideration. He just didn't know which solutions consequences he couldn't live with yet.


End file.
